The Log of a Cowboy eBook

around the herd, and was reechoed by our wrangler and
cook in the rear. The spirits of the outfit instantly
rose. We halted the herd and camped for noon,
and McCann set out his best in celebrating the occasion.
It was the most enjoyable meal we had had in the past
ten days. After a good noonday rest, we set out,
and having entered the trail during the afternoon,
crossed the North Fork late that evening. As
we were going into camp, we noticed a horseman coming
up the trail, who turned out to be smiling Nat Straw,
whom we had left on the Colorado River. “Well,
girls,” said Nat, dismounting, “I didn’t
know who you were, but I just thought I’d ride
ahead and overtake whoever it was and stay all night.
Indians? Yes; I wouldn’t drive on a trail
that hadn’t any excitement on it. I gave
the last big encampment ten strays, and won them all
back and four ponies besides on a horse race.
Oh, yes, got some running stock with us. How soon
will supper be ready, cusi? Get up something
extra, for you’ve got company.”

CHAPTER XI

A BOGGY FORD

That night we learned from Straw our location on the
trail. We were far above the Indian reservation,
and instead of having been astray our foreman had
held a due northward course, and we were probably as
far on the trail as if we had followed the regular
route. So in spite of all our good maxims, we
had been borrowing trouble; we were never over thirty
miles to the westward of what was then the new Western
Cattle Trail. We concluded that the “Running
W” herd had turned back, as Straw brought the
report that some herd had recrossed Red River the
day before his arrival, giving for reasons the wet
season and the danger of getting waterbound.

About noon of the second day after leaving the North
Fork of Red River, we crossed the Washita, a deep
stream, the slippery banks of which gave every indication
of a recent rise. We had no trouble in crossing
either wagon or herd, it being hardly a check in our
onward course. The abandonment of the regular
trail the past ten days had been a noticeable benefit
to our herd, for the cattle had had an abundance of
fresh country to graze over as well as plenty of rest.
But now that we were back on the trail, we gave them
their freedom and frequently covered twenty miles
a day, until we reached the South Canadian, which
proved to be the most delusive stream we had yet encountered.
It also showed, like the Washita, every evidence of
having been on a recent rampage. On our arrival
there was no volume of water to interfere, but it
had a quicksand bottom that would bog a saddle blanket.
Our foreman had been on ahead and examined the regular
crossing, and when he returned, freely expressed his
opinion that we would be unable to trail the herd
across, but might hope to effect it by cutting it
into small bunches. When we came, therefore, within
three miles of the river, we turned off the trail to
a near-by creek and thoroughly watered the herd.
This was contrary to our practice, for we usually
wanted the herd thirsty when reaching a large river.
But any cow brute that halted in fording the Canadian
that day was doomed to sink into quicksands from which
escape was doubtful.